


Ambrosia

by thehedonistspurge



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Tradition, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Library (Good Omens), Canon Compliant, Courtship, Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Language of Flowers, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Sweet Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 19:46:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19448302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehedonistspurge/pseuds/thehedonistspurge
Summary: After Apocalypse That Didn’t Take Place, Crowley is trying to court Aziraphale following the Angel Tradition Book that he barely remembers.The last time he read it? Before he fell.The last time he saw it? In 1068.There’s another party that has taken quite an interest in these proceedings. It would all fall in place. Eventually.





	Ambrosia

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for all you fans out there!

_Ambrosia_ : longevity and immortality

Ancient Greek: ἀμβροσία (/æmˈbroʊʒə/)

The Plan

It was a week after the Apocalypse That Didn’t Take Place, Crowley’s life had settled back to the way it was before he that night he delivered the Antichrist to that satanic sisterhood, Chattering Order of St. Beryl.

Aziraphale was still in his little bookshop that he was considering turning into a library of sorts. Crowley found that their entire exchange which prompted Aziraphale’s decision was rather banal but nonetheless endearing.

To set the scene, take note that there have been countless times where Crowley had to stop himself from leaning against the bookshelves in Aziraphale’s bookshop. While eyeing the towering inches of dust on several tomes, Crowley had to ask, “Angel, have you ever sold a book?”

"You know that I have always liked books, Crowley. And I have always like buying and keeping them,” Aziraphale said in reply, skirting around the question. _Because what sort of question was that?_ He was a bookshop owner for heaven’s sake. Of course, he had sold books before. He was only just _slightly, very slightly unwilling_ to part with them _._

“Not answering my question, Aziraphale.” At that, Crowley smirked a little. “I thought angels had to tell the truth when asked?”

“I am telling you the absolute truth, Crowley. Don’t you go and class me with your kind!” Aziraphale said testily, turning away from Crowley, preferring to arrange a stack of 14th century poetry collections.

Crowley didn’t take the bait Aziraphale dangled in front of him. _Pfft, ‘your kind’._ Crowley was _nothing_ like the other demons. He was an entirely higher caste on his own.

Instead of rising to the bait, he went in for the metaphorical kill. “You don’t even accept credit cards, angel.”

“Humans have their money. There is no need for those plastic things!” Aziraphale huffed.

“Of course, of course. So the human from earlier this morning, that wanted to purchase _Tom Sawyer_ , didn’t have money on them?”

Aziraphale inclined his head, ever so slightly in Crowley’s direction. He wasn’t acknowledging Crowley but it was in fact, a meager attempt at appearing aloft. 

“He was not going to take care of it,” Aziraphale seethed. “Buying it for some class assignment. The second he is done with it, off into the garbage it goes.”

Crowley looked pointedly at Aziraphale from above his glasses, his left eyebrow somehow raised and quirked at the same time.

Aziraphale cracked at that, his false bravado dissipating almost immediately. Aziraphale could never withstand Crowley’s scrutiny. He admitted, speaking slowly, "I have never liked selling books but I have if I must say! I _have_ sold books before."

Crowley gave him a look that Aziraphale took to mean, 'Go on…'

In reality, Crowley was giving Aziraphale an entirely different look, one that in fact meant, 'Go figure,' in response to Aziraphale's confession.

"It's just that I love watching their faces when they find something they have been looking for. So many of these humans have come up to me saying that they've been looking absolutely everywhere for a book but found it in _my_ shop."

Crowley couldn't exactly sympathize or empathize with any of these _feelings_ but nodded along prompting Aziraphale to continue.

"I just wish that they wouldn't try to take it from me. I would very much like to keep my books," Aziraphale said morosely. A hush fell over the room.

There were a few silent seconds before Crowley piped up with his revelation, "Aziraphale, that's a library." 

"What are talking about, Crowley?" 

Crowley walked up to Aziraphale who still hadn't understood. "Angel, what you want is a _library_ . You just described a library!" Crowley said, trying to shake some sense of logic into Aziraphale. Aziraphale's eyes went wide with awe. _Crowley was the most brilliant being he had ever met in these years._

"Crowley, you're absolutely right!" Aziraphale exclaimed, hugging Crowley tightly. After overcoming his slight shock, Crowley returned the hug, feeling every part of himself sinking into it.

And if Aziraphale saw Crowley's shy almost sheepish grin, he didn't say a thing. He didn't need too.

They had gotten drunk several times together after Aziraphale's decision and subsequent planning frenzy on how to proceed with the change from bookshop to library. Apparently, libraries even privately owned ones had tax exemptions. Not that it actually mattered, Aziraphale had stated before Heaven's stance on government imposed taxes. Here's a hint: It wasn't in the government’s favour.

With each time they ate together or had drunken debates, Crowley felt a growing need to confess to Aziraphale that he wanted… him. 

The turning point to all of this was clearly Aziraphale threatening him with his flaming sword, saying he would never speak to Crowley again if Crowley didn't think of something. The horror he felt was damning. If Aziraphale hadn't said that, Crowley's head would still be stuck in his ass. 

So there was really nothing stopping him now if he was honest with himself. The only perceivable obstacle in his way was himself. 

_Now_ was the right time. Those _feelings_ he thought would turn into dust six thousand years ago only hardened around his proverbial heart. Aziraphale had him wrapped around his finger. _How did he get into this mess?_

Crowley ran a hand through his hair. He could just say it, blurt it out when they were both drunk. If Aziraphale didn’t reciprocate, he could always pretend that he was joking. His sense of humour always darkened by several degrees when he was inebriated.

Crowley could do that but it cheapened his feelings for Aziraphale. _What if Aziraphale liked him back?_ Then, it would be horrendous start to their relationship. _And what if Aziraphale was open to it but thought Crowley was joking about it?_ Their relationship would be in an even worse condition. Crowley put his foot down. _There mustn’t be any misunderstandings._

_Yes, that’s right._

What’s a surefire way of courting an angel? Crowley didn’t know exactly. He recalled the time before he had Fallen when all the Angels had to memorize a book. _And_ _no, he wasn’t talking about the Bible or whatever._ Crowley had the name at the tip of his forked tongue. _What was it called?_

In a split second, he remembered it, he’s just have to _follow_ _the goddamned Angel Tradition Book._ Aziraphale would know of it, he would recognise what Crowley was trying to do, _trying to achieve_ and Crowley wouldn’t have to spit it out. 

If Aziraphale didn't want anything to do with Crowley in those terms, the angel could just ignore it. And Crowley would _never_ bring it up again.

A total win-win for both of them, honestly.

Crowley had rummaged through one of his many storage rooms looking for that very specific book. It was white and when you flipped it open, it shone brighter than the noon sun. He couldn’t find it. _Where could it be?_ The last time he saw it was in 1068. 

He must have misplaced the damned thing. Granted, he remembered some of it, the process of going about this courting business but his memory was spotty. Spotty not because he had forgotten but more like he didn’t care about it too much at that time. _Who knew he'd ever attempt something like this?_ God was very much likely to be looking down at him and laughing.

Giving up after nearly half a day, Crowley was about to curse his fruitless search when he received a call from Aziraphale. His angel wanted French crepes again, not that Crowley at all minded. After all, he needed to drink.

Aziraphale was almost done eating as Crowley drank deeply from his glass of wine. 

“The flowers here have always been so wonderful. I think the library would look splendid with flowers in their little pots,” Aziraphale commented glancing around the dining room. There vases with lilies of every kind placed around the restaurant. _How did he never notice this before?_

Crowley cocked an eyebrow, his interest stirred at the turn of their conversation. “Since when have you liked flowers, angel?” 

“I love every one of God’s creations.” Aziraphale wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin, hiding tiny grin behind it. He was a bit fond of Crowley calling him, ‘angel’ but tried his best not to show it.

Aziraphale who smiling as he watched a lily-of-the-valley bloom from the vase by the window, continued, “But flowers have always had my appreciation.”

“I would think I had your appreciation,” Crowley said, not thinking through his words and what he was implying. He drank his wine again, wishing he could take it back.

Aziraphale laughed heartily as if Crowley was speaking nonsense. “You are more than appreciated Crowley, my friend.”

At that, Crowley was wringing his hands under the table. _My friend._ Why was he nervous? _Of course, Aziraphale saw him as a friend._ They have had dinner dozens if not hundreds of times before. Aziraphale has said these type of sweet nothings before. He calmed himself. He didn’t want to blurt it out. He needed to follow the steps.

The first step of any type of courting was making one’s intention clear to God. He wasn’t going to strut up to heaven and demand an audience with God, was he? He could just leave a note somewhere or an offering at a church. Any church would do because they were _all_ houses of God.

Even if that were so simple, the second step was making his intentions clear to Aziraphale. He didn't know how to proceed with that. He could-

“Are you alright, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, concern bleeding into his voice.

Crowley looked up from his hands at that. “Of course. It's just that… I have to tempt a few devout priests tonight. I was thinking of how I should proceed.”

Aziraphale didn’t believe him. Crowley was an _exceptional_ demon, he had heard it from other angels as well as the demon himself. _Crowley does not doubt himself. Not unless it was something he was afraid of messing up?_

Still, he played along. He was naturally concerned and tempered it with a small sympathetic smile. “If that’s the case, I pray for any priest that crosses your path. I bet you have already found their weaknesses by now.”

When he dropped Aziraphale off at the bookshop-cum-library, Crowley considered what Aziraphale had said. He drummed his fingers against his steering wheel. _Weaknesses are the way into a person’s soul._ Weaknesses are more than wants or burning desires. They could be a simple appreciation like how a devout priest may look at a stripper. Or like a child to an old toy. 

_Aziraphale to a flower._

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by so many tumblr text posts and good omens fanfics, fanart and fanvids. 
> 
> Special shout outs to tumblr users, killing-constantine (for asking Neil Gaiman, 'Did Aziraphale ever sell a book?') and letitrainathousandflames (for their textpost on Crowley helping Aziraphale realise he wanted a library, not a bookstore).
> 
> Kudos to me is like Crowley 'encouraging' his plants to grow. In this case, you are Crowley for I am the plant. Rejoice, my readers.
> 
> Comments to me are like Aziraphale whispering blessings and performing miracles when I type.


End file.
